


sparks by the gasoline spill

by constantblur



Series: the classified katsuki/nikiforov files [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, Yuri wears a dress, a case of blue balls sorry vic, chuck and kingsman are my only reference points, super hand-wavy spy things bc what tf do i know about spy things, very minor murder mentions, victor disarms a bomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 09:19:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14541576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constantblur/pseuds/constantblur
Summary: "I'll be in here," he plucks a flesh-colored earpiece from the pocket of his coat and slides it into Victor's ear, "and I'll walk you through.""And whisper sweet nothings in my ear?""Focus, Nikiforov."





	sparks by the gasoline spill

**Author's Note:**

> i saw [this](http://www1.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Stav+Strashko+HBO+Documentary+Film+Trans+List+AmG38jclmkvl.jpg) and just really wanted yuri in it tbh, and then that thought collided with my constant lowkey desire to write some kind of spy/kingsman-ish au so here we are. completely indulgent little fic before i need to go all tunnel vision on my LLYBB fic ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

There are approximately 5,000 people in this casino, gambling and drinking and getting laid, and all of them will die in a devastating explosion if Victor does not manage to find and disarm the bomb before it ticks down to zero.

He scratches his nose and frowns. No pressure or anything.

It’s likely in one of the guest rooms. The terrorists would have privacy to assemble it, and it would be simple enough to keep hidden until it detonates; all it takes is a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door. Victor’s been cruising the casino floor for nearly an hour now to pick up a list of suspects and key cards. He isn’t sure how much longer he’s got until the bomb goes off—the terrorists had, helpfully, just said “tonight”—but since no SWAT team has shown up yet to incite mass panic and chaos, it means the agency still thinks he has a chance to pull this off quietly. 

Victor notes that the back-up he’d requested hasn’t shown up yet either.

He hides his grimace. It’s fine. He’s disarmed bombs before. Sure, this one’s likely to be the kind of unstable homemade device he has perhaps a 60% chance of being able to defuse on his own, but it’s _fine_. He’s survived worse odds.

Victor suppresses another grimace and pivots towards the elevators. Might as well do his sweep of the hotel rooms and at least lay eyes on the bomb before it potentially ends the long and illustrious career of Agent Victor Nikiforov.

Someone is leaning against the wall beside the elevator when Victor approaches, and he gets temporarily distracted by the thigh-high boots and the uncovered shoulder where a fur-lined coat has slipped off it. Victor’s eyes follow the line of buttons on the side of the dress, many of which have been left undone to display the tempting bare inches of skin between the dress and the top of the boot.

If he didn’t have a rather pressing matter to attend to, Victor might have invited her up to his room.

Victor leans in to press the button for the elevator, tilting a sly grin up at the woman—and almost freezes at the familiar quirk of that deprecating smile.

Not a woman. Agent Yuri Katsuki. Who _never_ comes into the field. Victor only gets to be face-to-face with Agent Katsuki about once a month, and that’s when he’s giving Victor a rundown on the latest tech with a lecture about how _not_ to abuse it, _Really, Nikiforov, they keep telling me how skilled you are, are they lying or are you playing too well at incompetence just to irritate me?_

(Their meetings are tragically infrequent, in Victor’s opinion.)

Well, Victor had requested back-up. He just wasn’t aware that Katsuki, posing as a high-end escort for high rollers, was even an option.

(The sweater vests Katsuki usually wears have been doing an extreme disservice to him.)

Katsuki tilts his head, showing off the long curve of his neck. “Are you up to offering me a good night?” he asks, red lips smiling up at Victor.

“And how much would it take to ensure you a good night?” Victor counters.

Katsuki slinks forward, tracing his fingers down Victor’s chest. “Normally, I’d say 900,”—that’s the time, the bomb is set to go off at 9:00, which is 24 minutes from now—“but for you, I would take seven.” Seven terrorists. Most of them are likely still in the room with the bomb, but Victor’s fairly certain he ran into at least one of them in the casino.

“I don’t know if it’s cute or cocky,” Victor says, sliding a hand down Katsuki’s hip, “that you think you’re worth that much.”

“Oh,” Katsuki breathes out, “I’m worth so much more.” He slides a thigh between Victor’s legs, peeking up at him through his lashes. “Just let me prove it to you.”

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. “All right,” Victor says, “I’ll give you a chance to prove it, sweetheart,” and takes Katsuki’s hand to pull him into the elevator.

“Floor 23,” Katsuki murmurs in his ear, and Victor hits the button.

When the doors close, Katsuki steps back, all business. “They’re in—”

“Room 2312,” Victor says smugly. That had been his top suspect.

Katsuki acknowledges neither the interruption nor Victor’s impressive display of skill that Katsuki routinely questions. “This will disable the detonator,” he continues, handing Victor a small, flat device that looks like a round magnet. “Get it on the bomb, and it should activate. If for some reason it does not, I’ll be in here,” he plucks a flesh-colored earpiece from the pocket of his coat and slides it into Victor’s ear, “and I’ll walk you through the less convenient method of disarming a volatile explosive.”

“And whisper sweet nothings in my ear?” The joke is too obvious, but Victor couldn’t resist.

“Focus, Nikiforov,” Katsuki reprimands, but something suspiciously resembling amusement glitters in his narrowed eyes.

“Right,” Victor responds with a hint of a smirk. He glances up to where the elevator displays which floor they’re on and gives a small sigh. “My stop is coming up.”

“Yes,” Katsuki says, and with a sharp pull on the front of Victor’s shirt, he drags him into a brutal kiss.

Victor doesn’t think, just reacts.

He’s got Katsuki— _Yuri_ —against the wall of the elevator, slotting their hips together while Yuri’s mouth opens to him easily, making an urgent noise against Victor’s mouth. His teeth drag against Victor’s bottom lip, biting down, and Victor groans. His hips roll up and rut against Yuri until Yuri arches hard against him, pulling painfully on Victor’s hair, and then his legs are wrapped around Victor’s waist and Victor’s mind is gone.

Which is, of course, when Yuri stops.

“That should do it,” Yuri says as he hops down, pushing Victor back. Victor preens over how Yuri, always composed Yuri, sounds breathless. “Looking like that, no one’s going to think you’re a threat until you’re already on them.”

Yuri’s mouth is red and swollen, hair disheveled in an obvious _looks like someone just got some_ sort of way, and there’s a distinct bulge at the front of his slinky black dress. If Victor looks anything like him, no one’s going to suspect him of being in any sort of state to defuse a bomb.

Which, maybe he isn’t, because Yuri’s cool expression is becoming steadily cooler. Victor’s being too slow with the come down.

“You have just about 20 minutes to get past whoever’s between you and the bomb and disarm it,” Yuri says sharply. The elevator doors ding open. “Get to work, Nikiforov.”

“Have I ever let you down before?” Victor says, stepping backwards off the elevator. As the doors begin to slide closed again, he says, “By the way, love the dress,” and gives Yuri a wink before he saunters down the hall.

There are two men loitering outside the hotel room who share ribald grins with Victor before he snaps their necks. He drags the bodies into the stairwell—not a perfect hiding spot, but he’s in a bit of a hurry and it’s the 23rd floor, how many people are likely to stumble on them any time soon, honestly—and then he’s crashing the party in room 2312, quickly sniping the four people who leap up at the sound of the door opening.

“Six terrorists down,” Victor reports, smoothly holstering his gun.

“Good,” Yuri says in his ear.

“I always am,” Victor drawls, letting the innuendo be starkly obvious.

“Find the bomb,” Yuri says, words clipped.

Victor’s already crossing the room to the desk. “I don’t much like it when they’re stupid and predictable,” Victor complains dramatically, frowning at the ill-made bomb that sits out in the open. “I feel like my talents are being wasted.”

Yuri sighs loudly in his ear. “Eleven minutes, Nikiforov. Figure out if we’re doing this the hard way or not.”

Victor pulls out the disabling device and gives it a stern look. “This had better work,” he says threateningly. He hates how tedious the hard way is.

“It will,” Yuri says. “Probably.”

Victor reaches forward slowly, exceedingly careful not to brush against any wires. With the gentlest touch he can manage, he places the device on the detonator, and then slowly, slowly extracts his hand.

The countdown clock on the bomb ticks down several more seconds.

“Katsuki—”

And he cuts himself off as the clock shuts down.

“What?” Yuri says.

“It went with the easy way,” Victor says, grinning.

“Excellent,” Yuri says. “You can withdraw now. Clean-up crew is on the way.”

Victor hurries back out to the elevator, but of course Yuri is no longer there. He can’t see him on the casino floor either.

“You did well,” Yuri says.

Victor thought he’d turned his mic off. Instead, he’s giving unnecessary praise several minutes after the mission’s already been completed.

Victor puts his hands in his pockets and strolls through the casino floor. “I can do even better,” he says, smooth and sultry. “Just let me prove it to you.”

“I daresay you will,” Yuri says.

“Just keep that dress on,” Victor says.

Alarms begin blaring around the casino.

“This dress,” Yuri says, “is not going to wait long. The police have been called”—well, that explains why Katsuki turned his mic back on—"and are on their way. They’re curious about some bodies in the stairwell.” Victor scowls. “The casino is on lockdown until they arrive, at which point they will view the security feeds and take you into custody.”

Victor’s jaw clenches.

“You have five minutes,” Yuri adds, helpfully.

Victor breaks out in four.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/constantblur_)
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> EDIT: now with art ([twitter](https://twitter.com/allthemegane/status/993224770547265536) | [tumblr](http://argyros.tumblr.com/post/173641645757/i-read-this-fic-sparks-by-the-gasoline-spill-and)) by the amazing luna!!!! please look at that beautiful sassy yuri in a dress he is PERFECT!!!!!! i am screaming without end!!!!!!!!!!!!!


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